Divergent from Four's POV -- Part 1
by Windchimed
Summary: This is part 1 of a retelling of Divergent from Four/Tobias' point of view. I've tried hard to stay true to Tobias' character and voice. Part 1 covers the earlier part of the book, and part 2 starts with Chapter 25, when Four shows his fear landscape to Tris. Both parts have select chapters right now; I'm adding more.
1. Chapter 6 (Tris Arrives in Dauntless)

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent world, any of the characters, or the dialogue that's in the books. Those all belong to Veronica Roth. Personally, I'm glad of that, since I like how she writes._

**Chapter 6 (Tris Arrives at Dauntless Headquarters)**

At least the platform isn't high enough to trigger my fear. I don't stand by the edge, but it's not a problem to look at the crowd gathered ten feet below. In their black clothes, they blend into the darkness around them, hidden in Dauntless' usual dim lighting. But metal flashes here and there as they move, as the jewelry in their many piercings catches bits of light and reflects it. The effect is eerie, or will be for the initiates anyway. I've gotten too used to Dauntless to give it much thought any more.

The huge net stretches out beside me, waiting for this year's group of frightened teenagers to drop into it. As I look at it, I think about Zeke and Shauna. They've been debating all day which of their younger siblings will be the first jumper. I've been careful not to take sides. Zeke is my closest friend, so it's tricky to admit that Shauna's probably right.

It's not that Uriah isn't brave. He is. It's just that there's more to him than that. He's kind, too, much kinder than you generally see among the Dauntless, the level of kindness associated with Amity. I've suspected for a long time that he's Divergent. It's the reason I've stayed here this long, the reason I volunteered to instruct this class of initiates. He's going to need help hiding from the Dauntless leaders.

When it comes down to it, I see him letting someone else jump first, letting them get the glory and the attention – attention he must know he'll need to avoid. Lynn, on the other hand, is constantly trying to prove herself. It's easy to imagine her leaping off the building first, though I suppose it could be one of the others. There are several I barely know, and a couple I've never even met. There will be transfers, too, of course, but they almost never jump first. I can't blame them; I was the last jumper in my class. Launching myself off the roof without knowing what waited below wasn't something I wanted to do my first day here, or any time, really. I'm still afraid of heights.

Max's voice filters down from the rooftop overhead, barely audible over the noise of the crowd. I know they're trying to be quiet, trying to keep a low profile as they wait to cheer the new initiates, but they're Dauntless – loud by nature.

After a short time, Max grows silent, and I know he's presenting the initiates with the opportunity to prove their courage by being the first to jump. We still have a few minutes to wait. Even those who grew up in Dauntless, and know there's a net to catch them, need some time to gather their courage.

My fellow trainer, Lauren, starts to say something, and I'm turning toward her when we're both startled by the sound of someone hitting the net. There wasn't even a scream.

At first, I think Max must have jumped for some reason, since I can't imagine an initiate jumping that soon or that quietly their first time. But then I see the form in the net – a small, slight girl dressed all in gray, in Abnegation clothes. For a moment, I simply stare at her in surprise. Almost no one transfers from Abnegation to Dauntless – I'm the only one in the last 14 years – and I doubt any of the others jumped first. She may be unique in faction history.

She looks up, realizing that she's safely on a net, and laughs, covering her face with her hands for a second. When she emerges, I'm caught by her eyes. They flash with energy, with the wild enthusiasm that represents Dauntless at its best, and it's easy to see why she chose this place.

Hands are reaching into the net, offering to help her climb out, and I find myself extending my own hand among them. I'm not quite sure why I do that, since I generally avoid touching people, but there's something compelling about those eyes, and about the idea of someone from my former faction being here.

The girl reaches out, grabbing my hand from among all the choices. That feels right somehow, the only two "Stiffs" here finding each other. I pull her from the net onto the platform, trying to remember how I got out of the net when I arrived here two years ago. The memory doesn't come – I must have been too filled with fear to notice anything beyond it at the time.

She stumbles, almost falling as her feet try to find a hold on the poorly lit platform, and my hands catch her automatically, steady her. For a moment, our eyes meet as she gains her balance, and again I'm startled by their intensity. They radiate fiercely, wide and blue on a narrow face that's framed with long blond hair. She has it pulled into the classic Abnegation bun, and abruptly I'm struck by the simple beauty of that tradition. I wonder for a moment how long she'll continue to wear it that way.

Once she's standing, I let go of her promptly, knowing she won't want to be touched any more than necessary. She'll have the same Abnegation habits I did – still do, really. It's strange to think of seeing those traits in someone else again, but I have to admit, it's kind of a nice thought. I hadn't realized how much I've missed that.

"Thank you," she says, her voice unusually low for a girl's, particularly for one so small.

Lauren's voice rises from behind me. "Can't believe it. A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of." Lauren's a decent person, but I find myself annoyed that she's applying that term to someone who just proved herself Dauntless at heart.

"There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," I respond without turning around, my gaze still drawn by the newcomer's eyes. I lean toward her so she can hear me over the noise of the crowd and ask, "What's your name?"

"Um…" she begins, and then hesitates, clearly considering her options. I remember my Choosing Day, refusing to give my name, wanting to break from my past and redefine myself, and I smile a little.

"Think about it," I tell her. "You don't get to pick again."

She must come to her decision, because she answers firmly, "Tris."

Lauren repeats the name and then adds, "Make the announcement, Four."

I look over my shoulder and shout, "First jumper – Tris!" The crowd roars its approval as only Dauntless can – pumping their fists in the air, cheering, shouting, clapping, stomping. She seems uncertain how to respond, but at the same time as if she likes the chaotic enthusiasm. Then, a high-pitched scream pierces the air as another initiate falls, and the crowd laughs. I turn automatically to look and see another girl in the net, also a transfer, but in black and white clothes this time. She's from Candor. Two transfers in a row as the first two jumpers… Tris must have started a trend.

And then the name clicks, and I realize who she is: Beatrice Prior. Our fathers work together on the council. I used to see her walking with her family sometimes, though we never spoke, never met. For a moment, I can't help but wonder if she's here for the same reason I came, but then I think of the look on her face as she lay in the net, and I think it's more likely she chose Dauntless because it's who she is. Either way, this is her home now.

My hand reaches out on its own, resting on Tris' back for a moment, and I lean close again so she can hear me. "Welcome to Dauntless," I say.

Lauren pulls the second girl from the net, and I see her gravitate toward Tris. They must be friends from school, or perhaps they simply bonded on the way here in that immediate manner new initiates sometimes do. There's nothing like facing the unknown together to make people close.

There's no time to announce the second name, because the other initiates begin to fall in rapid succession. Uriah is third – the first of the Dauntless-born initiates as it turns out – with Lynn right behind him. I girl I know a little, Marlene, follows next. Most of the others are unfamiliar. I catch brief impressions, noting some of them more than others, but it's too early to judge much about them.

Max jumps last, his appearance indicating that all the initiates are safely in the building – well, the ones who made it this far, anyway. If this year is like most others, there will be at least one or two who didn't make it onto the train, or off it, and are now factionless. Dauntless isn't an easy faction to join.

_**Please take a moment to write a review, so I know what you liked and what didn't work for you. Reviews really, really help with that... Thanks!**_


	2. Chapter 7 (Touring Dauntless)

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent world, any of the characters, or the dialogue that's in the books. Those all belong to Veronica Roth. Personally, I'm glad of that, since I like how she writes._

**Chapter 7 (Touring the Dauntless Compound)**

Lauren, Max, and I lead the initiates away from the net and toward the Pit. I see several of the transfers stumbling and remember how dark this place seems at first. They'll get used to it.

When we reach the split, I turn to face the initiates, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Max and Lauren do the same, and I'm sure we create an intimidating-looking barrier.

"This is where we divide," Lauren tells the group. "The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume _you_ don't need a tour of the place." She smiles and beckons to them, and they follow her without question. I watch Uriah walking with them and feel a small pang of worry. I tried to take charge of the Dauntless-borns, for his sake, but Max put me with the transfers anyway. He said their odds of making it were better with a fellow transfer instructing them, but I think he was really punishing me for refusing to be a Dauntless leader. Sometimes, when I see the direction Eric and the others are taking this faction, I regret my refusal, but I would have hated working with Max, with all of them.

I turn back to scan the transfers. There are nine of them, mostly from Erudite and Candor. No one joined from Amity, and Tris is the only one from Abnegation. The numbers are not surprising – larger than my class but still small. If they knew in advance what they'd be facing in initiation, I'm sure the number would be even smaller.

"Most of the time I work in the control room," I tell them, "but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor. My name is Four."

The second jumper, the girl from Candor, pipes up. "Four? Like the number?"

"Yes," I reply firmly. "Is there a problem?" The Candor are always difficult, so I might as well get this over with right up front.

"No," she says, showing a bit more tact than I expect, at least for now.

"Good," I continue. "We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—" but the same girl interrupts again.

"The Pit?" she laughs. "Clever name." So much for tact.

I keep my pace even and deliberate as I walk over to her, and then I lean close to her face and fix her with my best intimidating stare. "What's your name?" I ask, my voice quiet with menace.

"Christina," she responds squeakily.

"Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction. The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?"

She nods, unable or unwilling to speak, or perhaps just taking my instructions very literally. That's okay. They all need to learn this lesson, and it ensures I have control of the group from the beginning. That will make it much easier to train them effectively.

For a long moment, the entire group is silent as they follow me, and then I hear Christina's voice very faintly behind me, whispering to one of the others. "What a jerk."

Tris' voice responds quietly, "I guess he doesn't like to be laughed at." That's not why I did it, but I suppose there's some truth to her statement.

As I push open the double doors that lead into the Pit, the initiates stare around, their eyes wide, and I can tell they now understand why we call it by that name. It's certainly an impressive space – a huge cavern carved into rock, with walls that rise several stories, housing paths and small business areas. I give everyone time to absorb it all, watching their reactions to get a sense of their personalities.

Christina smiles openly as she looks around in wonder, clearly thrilled to be here. A large girl from Candor stares open-mouthed, while the shiny-haired boy next to her watches the people more than the place. He reminds me of Eric, and I make a mental note to keep an eye on him.

My gaze wanders back to Tris. She's looking at the narrow paths lining the room, worry visible on her face as she sees small children run along them, high above the ground with no railing. Yes, it takes a while to get used to that sight.

Finally, it's time to move on. "If you follow me," I tell them, "I'll show you the chasm."

I lead them along the right side of the Pit, into one of the darkest parts of the room. The sound of crashing water gets louder the closer we come. I stop by the railing, letting the initiates catch up, letting their eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The chasm is beautiful, despite the sense of height I feel when I look over the railing, and for a moment, I simply give them time to view it.

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" I shout above the roaring of the water. "A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You've been warned."

As I lead them back toward the main part of the Pit, I hear Christina saying, "This is incredible." Her voice is full of awe and excitement. She'll do fine here if she can learn to control her Candor instincts.

Tris' voice responds, calmer, but with an overtone I can't quite read. "Incredible is the word." Her biggest challenge will be making it through the first stage of initiation. Size is a distinct advantage in that stage, and she's the smallest of the group. But everything about her radiates Dauntless – if she can get through stage 1, I have no doubt she'll do well.

It's dinner time, and I can almost see the hunger in the initiates' eyes as I lead them into the dining hall. They've had a rough day, but I can't reassure them that tomorrow will be better, because it won't be. Realistically, it won't get easier for quite a while.

As we enter the room, the Dauntless stand and cheer for their new initiates, shouting and stomping with trademark enthusiasm. I glance at the initiates' reactions, seeing the hesitant smile on the huge Candor boy's face, the small Erudite girl hiding behind her larger faction-mate, the fake innocence of the shiny-haired boy. My eyes stop on Tris. Her face is lit with a grin that reshapes her features, that makes it hard to look away. I smile a little in response without intending to.

As we all look for empty seats, I find myself selecting the chair next to her. Christina sits on her other side and immediately begins helping herself to the food that's piled in the center of the table. Tris is much more hesitant, staring at the hamburger patties and then pinching one like it's a foreign concept. She won't have eaten these before, or even seen them, since they aren't served for school lunches and aren't part of Abnegation fare. I nudge her with my elbow and say quietly, "It's beef." I pass her a bowl of catsup and add, "Put this on it."

"You've never had a hamburger before?" Christina asks incredulously.

"No," Tris responds matter-of-factly. "Is that what it's called?" I like her calmness. Most people would rise to the bait of a comment like that, but she doesn't even acknowledge there's bait there.

"Stiffs eat plain food," I explain to Christina, feeling somehow compelled to back Tris up. I hate the term "Stiff" but I use it anyway. It's better if the others don't realize what we have in common. No, I correct myself, it's better if none of them realize that, including Tris. Initiation is vicious, and she'll need to toughen up a lot to get through it; she won't do that if she thinks I'll take it easy on her.

Christina is still staring at Tris and the hamburger. "Why?" she asks finally, with typical Candor directness.

Tris answers with a shrug, "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary."

This seems to amuse Christina. With a smirk, she says, "No wonder you left."

Tris rolls her eyes and comments drolly, "Yeah, it was just because of the food." A smile tugs at my mouth. She has a sense of humor. That's not common in Abnegation, but it will help her here. There's something more to her response, though… She deflected the conversation subtly, and now Christina is much less likely to ask why she really transferred here. It was very cleverly done.

I'm about to respond when Eric walks into the room, and my body tenses instinctively, the words forgotten in my mouth. The dining hall grows uncharacteristically quiet, so I know I'm not the only one who notices the extra anger in his walk, in his whole appearance. He looks like he wants to strangle someone.

"Who's that?" Christina hisses, and I remember she's there.

"His name is Eric. He's a Dauntless leader." My voice stays level, calm.

"Seriously? But he's so young."

That notion needs to be corrected now. Initiates are not treated as children here, not even remotely. They will have the freedoms and responsibilities of adults from this day forward, and it's important they know that. I look straight at her and state flatly, "Age doesn't matter here."

The same reaction flicks over Christina's and Tris' faces simultaneously, but before they can ask anything else, we all see Eric walking toward us. His eyes are on me, and it's obvious his anger is directed at me too. Of course it is.

Eric drops into the seat next to me and demands, "Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" Like he cares – I know perfectly well he's after me, not them, but I answer evenly.

"This is Tris and Christina."

"Ooh, a Stiff," Eric responds with an almost greedy smile, and I wish I hadn't chosen to sit next to Tris. Eric is one of the few people who knows I came from Abnegation, and now he'll think that I'm sitting by her because I care about that link. He'll think that if he goes after Tris, that might get to me, so he'll try it. She's already the smallest initiate, and now she'll have this disadvantage too, and it will be my fault. I should have kept my distance.

Eric smirks at Tris a moment longer, his many piercings pulling at his lips, creating a deeply menacing look. She winces and drops her eyes, and he says, "We'll see how long you last." Fortunately, she has the sense not to respond.

After a moment, he grows bored and turns back to me, drumming his fingers on the table. He obviously wants something, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of asking what it is, so I simply wait.

"What have you been doing lately, Four?" he finally asks, and a flare of fear shoots through me. Has he figured out that I've been looking at the secure Dauntless files? That I've found the war plans the Erudite sent to us?

Keeping my expression even, I shrug and answer casually, "Nothing, really."

"Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don't show up," Eric continues. "He requested that I find out what's going on with you."

That's an obvious lie. I saw Max a half hour ago, and he didn't say anything about wanting to meet with me, hasn't said anything in the last few weeks as we prepared for initiation. No, he gave up trying to recruit me months ago, about the time I decided I would prefer to go factionless rather than continue living in Dauntless. Eric is here for another reason. Whatever it is can't be good.

I think carefully about how to respond. If Eric is suspicious of my time in the control room, I need to change his focus. I need to hit his insecurities.

"Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold," I finally say. Either he already knows that I was Max's first choice, and this reminder will irritate him, or he doesn't know, and the idea will infuriate him. Either way, it should take his attention off my other activities.

"So he wants to give you a job," Eric responds with a definite edge to his voice.

"So it would seem," I answer guardedly, as if I don't want him to know this. That will cement his attention.

"And you aren't interested." It's a statement, not a question. I decide to add the final blow.

"I haven't been interested for two years." That's right – you're only a leader because I declined the position first. For a moment, we just glare at each other as I let that reality sink in.

"Well," Eric finally responds, "let's hope he gets the point, then." He rises, clapping me on the shoulder painfully hard, and marches away with even more anger in his posture than before. He didn't know. Suddenly, I'm not sure it was a good idea to tell him. There will be repercussions.

Tris' voice startles me as she asks, "Are you two… friends?" I had forgotten she was there.

"We were in the same initiate class," I answer automatically. "He transferred from Erudite."

That must catch Tris' attention because there's some excitement in her voice as she asks, "Were you a transfer too?"

My focus shifts fully to Tris, and I remember the way Eric looked at her, like he wants to hurt her, like he wants to make sure she fails. And now he's even angrier at me, even more likely to go after her to get to me. I've just put her in danger, yet she's asking me questions like she thinks I'm her friend. I should put a stop to that idea.

"I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions," I say, cold anger in my voice. "Not I've got Stiffs, too?"

To my surprise, Tris answers levelly, "It must be because you're so approachable. You know. Like a bed of nails." There's no fear at all in her eyes or her voice. She instantly knew to back down from Eric – no, to hide from him, but she's not afraid of me. Have I shown that much kindness to her, or is she just that good at recognizing true threats?

I fix her with the same glare I used on Christina earlier, the one that intimidates everyone, but again, there's no sign of fear. She looks directly at me, accepting my challenge calmly and choosing to face it. For a long moment, we stay like that, our eyes locked. The longer it continues, the fiercer her gaze gets, becoming bolder when her fear should be growing instead. It's more than a little intriguing, and I'm tempted to continue the staring contest to see if she has a breaking point, but this needs to end. She can't do this with Eric, or anyone else, or she'll cause herself trouble.

"Careful, Tris," I say, hoping she'll take the hint. Her eyes immediately drop, and I think again of the subtle way she redirected Christina's curiosity earlier. She's definitely smart. That's a mixed bag here, but hopefully she can use it to her advantage.

At that moment, Zeke calls my name, and I walk over to him, glad of the excuse to leave the table. I'm not sure what to make of Tris, which means my safest option is to keep some distance from her.

Zeke, on the other hand, wants to discuss her. The first words out of his mouth are, "So, is there some kind of special Stiff calendar tracking when my family turns 16? I mean, you were bad enough with your _four fears_ and all, but now _she_ comes along and jumps first in Uriah's year? What's up with that?"

He's grinning, but his words just remind me that Eric will see the same connection between us, and he's already spent two years thinking that he should have been first in our class – would have been if I hadn't come along and stolen that rank. My insides turn icy, but I keep it from showing. Even among my friends, I keep secrets automatically.

"Well, duh," I respond. "Weren't you paying attention in school? They talked about it in Faction class."

"I must have been out that day," Zeke sighs dramatically. "It figures."

Shauna turns to me with a more serious expression and asks, "What did Eric want?"

I shrug, saying, "It's always hard to tell with Eric, isn't it?"

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "He was looking at the initiates," she comments. "Any idea why?" She'll be worried about Lynn, of course. She knows better than most what Eric is like. She hadn't finished growing when we were initiates together, and she struggled with fighting. Eric was brutal to her. If Zeke and I hadn't been there, it's hard to say what would have happened.

"He was interested in the Stiff," I admit. "But he didn't seem to care about the others."

Zeke leans forward, his face grave now. "You don't think he'll go after her, do you? I mean, Eric's sick and all, but she's _tiny_."

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I wouldn't put it past him, but presumably he needs some excuse, other than hating all of Abnegation just because I came from there."

"He's a leader now," Shauna says with a grim expression. "He doesn't need an excuse. As if the lack of one ever stopped him before." Her face is bitter, and my stomach twists even more. No, I certainly haven't done Tris any favors her first day here.

Abruptly, I need to be done with this conversation. I stand, saying, "You two keep guessing if you want. I'm going to talk with the other initiates."

I walk to the table where the shiny-haired boy from Candor sits. He already reminds me of Eric, so I might as well start with him.

* * *

As dinner is wrapping up, I rise from the last table. I now know all the initiates' names and have a small sense of who they are. It's enough for tonight, anyway. I'm about to gather them together for the rest of the tour when Maria approaches me. I tense instinctively.

"A word, Four," she murmurs, placing her hand on my arm. It's all I can do not to shake it off.

Maria is one of the senior Dauntless leaders. It's rumored that she groomed Max for his position and that much of the current tone in Dauntless is due to her. I believe it. We haven't had many interactions over the two years I've been here, but I remember each of them clearly, and definitely not favorably.

The irony is that she's probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She's certainly the type I used to stare at when I was younger, anyway – curvy, with flawless olive skin, thick, wavy hair, full lips, and perfect features. I suppose it's a sign of how much I've matured that I don't find her even remotely attractive. All I can think when I look at her now is how much I dislike her.

"Can it wait?" I ask, trying to keep the tension out of my voice. "I need to show the initiates to their dorm."

"Oh, you won't be doing that," she says with a little smile. "Eric will take care of it while you and I chat."

"Eric?" I demand. "What's he got to do with this?"

"Well, that's what we're going to talk about, now, isn't it?" she says with false sweetness, her voice still low, her hand still on my arm. And I know I have no choice. I can't flat-out ignore a direct order from a senior leader, and however she phrases it, that's what this is.

I nod stiffly, extracting my arm from her grasp. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Let's go to my office," she states. Without waiting for an answer, she leads the way, and I have no choice but to follow. I glance at the initiates as I pass, hating to leave them in Eric's hands, but then I'm out the door, following Maria to the glass building above us.

Her office is large and filled with fancy furniture. Two of the walls are made entirely of glass, the outer walls of the building. Through them, I catch a clear view of the city's skyline, and the street well below that. We're high enough that the people look like ants, unrecognizable far, far beneath us. The sight sends a wave of vertigo through me, but I ignore it and turn toward Maria instead.

She shuts the door and waves me toward a chair. I should probably sit; it will look less hostile, but I'm too angry and too worried, so I just cross my arms and glare at her. "Why is Eric involved with the initiates?" I demand again.

"He made a very good point," she responds in her quiet, seductive voice. "He reminded me how important initiation is in making sure that Dauntless stays on the path we've set. And if we want to be sure our newest members follow that path, the leaders need to be directly involved."

My stomach clenches, but she continues. "Of course, if you had accepted Max's offer, we wouldn't be in this position, but sadly you insisted on going your own way. So, when Eric volunteered to oversee this year's initiation, I had to say yes." She smiles the same little smile. I feel an almost overwhelming urge to wipe it off her face, but I know this is really Eric's fault, his idea, and I know perfectly well why he did it. I made him feel that I'm a threat to his job, so now he's proving that he can take mine. He's leaving no doubt that he's in charge. And all the initiates will suffer for it. I'm as bad as the Candor – I should have kept my mouth shut.

"So, Eric's going to do all the training, and you don't need me any more, is that it?" I ask.

"Oh, I don't think we need to go that far," she answers calmly. "Eric will just keep an eye on things. You and Lauren can still do most of the training. After all, you're very good at it, and we want the initiates to learn from the best."

Of course. Eric doesn't want to take my job completely. He wants to make me follow his orders in front of everyone. It will amuse him to make me watch as he treats the initiates cruelly, as he forces me to be cruel too.

For a moment, I seriously consider quitting, just leaving Dauntless now and becoming factionless a couple of months earlier than I planned. If I'm not there, Eric won't have any reason to mess with initiation, and maybe someone else can take over. But I know Maria better than that. There's no way she would let him back out if I quit; instead, she'd make him do all the work, replace me completely, and that would be even worse.

If I stay, Eric will focus his attention on me. That means he'll leave the Dauntless-borns mostly alone. The odds are very high that he'll also leave me to run the simulations – he'll consider that dull, beneath him. So, if I stay, I can still help Uriah, can keep him safe if I'm right that he's Divergent. Tris' face flits through my mind, and I realize I don't want Eric running her simulations either. I've already caused her enough trouble; I need to do what I can to correct that. There's no real choice here.

"Fine," I say, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. "I would have thought that Eric had more to do, what with being a leader and all, but if he doesn't have any real work, then by all means, send him down."

Maria smiles again, the same tight, false smile as always. "Thank you for your cooperation," she says. The words are a dismissal, and I seize the opportunity, turning on my heel and heading out the door before she can change her mind. I feel like I'm going to be sick, but I push it down and head to the training room. I need to shoot something.

_**Please take a moment to write a review, so I know what you liked and what didn't work for you. Reviews really, really help with that... Thanks!**_


	3. Chapter 21 (Tris Is Attacked)

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent world, any of the characters, or the dialogue that's in the books. Those all belong to Veronica Roth. Personally, I'm glad of that, since I like how she writes._

_Update Notes: I originally posted the whole attack scene as one chapter, but I'm splitting it to match the chapters in the book. I also did some rewording, mostly because I had too many sentence fragments. Tris uses a number of those, but Tobias uses complete sentences most of the time._

**Chapter 21 (Peter Attacks Tris)**

I recognize the scream from the simulations, and my heart stops. It's Tris, afraid for her life. My mind goes instantly to Eric. He must have figured out she's Divergent. He _knows_, and he's going to kill her. Then I'm running, without knowing what I'll do when I reach them, without having a plan, without knowing anything except that I can't let him succeed.

I run faster than I've ever moved in my life, my feet beating into the narrow path, my heart pounding – faster and faster and faster still. I have to get there in time. I can't think about the alternative. _There is no alternative._

As I finally reach the floor, I see a figure running toward me. It will be one of Eric's cronies, trying to stop me, trying to give Eric time to finish. He's big. I'm planning how I will strike, how I will clip him just enough to knock him off balance and swerve around him, keep going, when he veers away from me, and I recognize him. Al, the Sledgehammer. That makes no sense. Eric hates him, knows he isn't Dauntless material. He would never use him as a helper.

Al must have been with Tris, and now he's running to save his own life. But something's wrong with that too. Eric wouldn't strike in front of anyone, wouldn't leave witnesses, except perhaps a loyal few. And for all his failings, Al has shown strength in standing up to Eric, in protecting others. I also hear the whisper in the back of my mind, _Al likes Tris, is attracted to her, wouldn't abandon her_. I usually hate him for that, but right now it just makes things confusing.

As I get closer, I can make out three figures against the darkness – two attackers and Tris. The tall one must be Eric, but I don't recognize the shorter, heavier man; he's cradling an injured arm and swearing loudly, so he doesn't seem to be an immediate threat, but I can't dismiss the possibility that he's armed. Tris is on the floor, struggling to free herself, to remove her blindfold. Eric pulls his foot back and kicks her hard, in the side, and a new surge of anger flares through me.

I want to shout, but I have to catch Eric off guard. I can fight him – I've done so before – but he's vicious. We're almost even under the best circumstances, and right now, he's probably armed, and he has help. The less warning he has, the better. I need to approach as quietly as I can, hoping that all the other noises – the water roaring in the chasm, the swearing still coming from Eric's helper, Tris' screams – cover the sound of my running.

Tris pulls herself to her feet, facing her attackers with that strength that is all hers. It's one of the things I like so much about her, how fear makes her come to life, makes her stronger. Eric grabs her by the throat, lifting her in a choke hold above the chasm, but she's kicking and fighting back. I still have time.

And then suddenly I'm close enough to see in the dim lighting. It's not Eric at all. It's Peter. Peter and Drew. My mind reels, trying to make sense of this, and I finally realize – they're attacking her because she's ranked first. It has nothing to do with Divergence, nothing to do with Eric, nothing to do with Dauntless leadership. They're trying to kill her out of petty jealousy. _Jealousy._ They're willing to _kill_ her – _her_ – simply because she outranked them.

Fury rushes through me, white hot, burning out the fear. I have never been angrier, not even when my father beat me until I couldn't move, not even when he beat my mother, which was far worse, not even when I fought Eric and knocked out his tooth. I can barely see through the rage. A shout tears from my throat, and I can dimly see Peter jumping, staring my way, dropping Tris as he turns to run. My heart drops with her. For a moment, there is nothing else, no passage of time, no movement except her falling, no one except her. I don't even exist. And then she throws her arms forward, catching herself on the railing, hooking her elbows in place, hanging from her armpits, safe for now.

Drew hits me on the mouth. I didn't even notice him approaching. Some distant, objective part of me thinks that he's braver than Peter, trying to face me while Peter runs. Not a good idea. I turn on him, grabbing, smashing, throwing, kicking. I don't even know what I do to him, just that nothing is enough punishment for _this_, for what they did, what they tried to do, to _her_.

And then I hear her voice. "Four." My eyes lock onto her immediately, and I see her eyes close and her body sag. I lunge toward her, my hands closing over her arms before she can fall. I pull her over the railing, away from the chasm and against my chest, holding her close. She makes no attempt to hold her weight, and I know she's barely conscious. Maybe it's just as well – I doubt I could let her go right now. My left arm slides under her legs as my right arm shifts under her shoulders, and I lift her fully into my arms. She presses her face against my shoulder, and her whole body goes limp, unconscious.

I lose track of time. I'm walking, carrying her, but I don't remember how we got here, don't even know where I'm going. I need to think, need to clear my head and focus. She needs help, but how much help? For a moment, I think about carrying her to Erudite headquarters, where a real doctor can take care of her, can give her time to heal, can keep her away from the monsters who attacked her three against one. Three large guys against one small girl. Because I know now that Al was one of the attackers. He would never have run if it had been him and Tris against Peter and Drew. He would only have run if he was one of them and then panicked. The betrayal is harsh. I never thought highly of Al, but I certainly didn't expect this.

I suddenly realize we're outside my apartment. I must have walked here out of habit. And it occurs to me that I can take care of her myself. If she's not too badly injured, she doesn't need the infirmary, and she'll be safer with me. No one can come after her during the night. Eric won't see her, won't go near her. And I can stay with her.

I bring her through the door, close it behind me, and find there's a small flaw in my plan. I can't seem to put her down, can't seem to let go of her. Get a grip. Breathe. Focus. I pull her close, tight, for one more moment, and then set her down on the bed, carefully, keeping her neck steady. Then I stand there looking at her, trying to assess her injuries without disturbing her, without touching her in ways she wouldn't appreciate. Suddenly, I'm nervous. I don't know how to proceed, but my choices are limited – take her to the infirmary or do what I need to help her. And I don't want to leave her in the infirmary.

I take a deep breath and begin checking for broken bones, carefully, on top of her clothing, starting at the top of her neck, going down her spine, over her ribs, her arms, her legs. There are no breaks and no obvious gushes of blood. I breathe a small sigh of relief. The biggest risk left is a concussion. She's clearly been hit on the head – there's a bruise starting on her cheek and a bump growing rapidly on the top of her head. But her pupils are even and reactive to the flashlight I grab. She's not conscious yet, so I can't be sure, but it looks like just bumps and bruises – nasty ones, yes, but it could have been so much worse.

I retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and set it gently against the bump growing on her head. That's the one I need to watch the most. As I set it there, I see my hands for the first time, notice that they're covered with dried blood, mine and Drew's. I smeared some on Tris, too, but it doesn't show much on the black clothes. I suppose that's one of the reasons Dauntless always wear black. It hides our sins.

I head toward the bathroom to wash my hands, and then I remember Drew. I'm still not sure just what I did to him, but I know there's no way he can get himself to the infirmary, and I doubt Peter or Al will help him. Tempting as it is, I can't really just leave him there. Besides, part of me wants to make sure he's hurt enough, make sure he _never_ does something like this again. That thought makes my feet move, back to the chasm, back to his bloody form lying slumped on the ground, whimpering. He makes excuses as I haul him to the infirmary, saying they only intended to scare Tris, not really hurt her. I only half listen. There is no justification for what they did.

I literally drop him on the infirmary floor. The nurse doesn't even raise an eyebrow – she's clearly used to this. Fighting is part of Dauntless, and we all know it. She doesn't ask any questions, but I want to make sure she _knows_, so I make a point of saying, loudly so Drew will hear it, "I wouldn't take good care of him. He and two other big guys attacked an initiate, a girl much smaller than him. He's a _coward_." The nurse's mouth sets in a hard line, and she eyes Drew like he's a pile of slime that fell off someone's shoe onto the floor. As I turn to go, I can't resist leaning over Drew and saying softly, "I expect to see you in training tomorrow. If I don't, you can consider yourself factionless." I can't really enforce that, but it feels good to say it anyway.

I leave the infirmary, walk back through the Pit, looking. I tell myself I need to walk off the excess energy, the aggression, need to calm down, but I know I'm looking for Peter and Al. I want to hurt them, badly. It's probably just as well I don't find them. I pause by the dormitory door for a few minutes, seriously considering opening it, hauling them out if they're in there, beating them to a pulp, but it would give away too much if I did. It would tell Eric that I like her, and he's already watching her far too closely. Hell, half an hour ago, I was sure he was trying to kill her – and that was without him knowing, without the added incentive of hurting me in the process. He would certainly go after her if he thought it would break me.

It would.

_**Please take a moment to write a review, so I know what you liked and what didn't work for you. Reviews really, really help with that... Thanks!**_


	4. Chapter 22 (Recovering after the Attack)

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent world, any of the characters, or the dialogue that's in the books. Those all belong to Veronica Roth. Personally, I'm glad of that, since I like how she writes._

**Chapter 22 (Tris Recovers in Four's Apartment)**

Focus. Breathe. Calm down. I repeat that over and over as I walk. Finally, it occurs to me that she might be awake by now, might have woken up in a strange place with no one there. God, I'm an idiot. I return to my apartment quickly, slide through the door, my eyes immediately on her. She's still unconscious. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried. It's been almost 45 minutes now. I check her breathing and find it smooth, regular. She seems all right – well, as all right as she can be under the circumstances. The ice pack is warming up, though, so I put it back in the freezer. It's time for a cycle without the cold anyway. I remember that ice should only be applied in cycles.

Now I really do go into the bathroom and wash my hands. I breathe slowly as I scrub them clean, go through my calming routine, push the emotions down. I let them vent for too long. Now, it needs to be about her, about taking care of her. I focus just on that, and feel the calm settle through me as I examine my cuts. Every knuckle is split, but that's nothing new. I have a cut on the corner of my mouth, too, but it will heal fine. I turn off the water and dry my hands, return to the room, and retrieve a fresh ice pack from the refrigerator.

As I'm walking back to her, our eyes meet. She's awake. Relief floods through me, but I keep my face still. It's already strange that I brought her back here, instead of to the infirmary. I need to play this right.

"Your hands," she croaks. Seriously? She almost died, her throat was strangled until she can barely talk, and she's worried about me? I almost sigh. Of course she is.

"My hands are none of your concern." I say it more roughly than I intended, but she needs to focus on herself right now. Besides, I need to stay calm, and I'm not sure I can do that if she keeps looking at me like that. Like my injuries mean more to her than her own, like I mean more to her...

I stop the thought and lean over her, putting my knee on the mattress while I slip the ice pack under her head again. As I do, she reaches up, her hand hesitating for a moment, and then touches the corner of my mouth. My insides freeze and heat up at the same time. At least her eyes are moving normally – I force myself to focus on them, to confirm there's no concussion. Finally, I speak through her fingers. "Tris, I'm all right."

"Why were you there?" she asks as her hand drops back to the bed.

"I was coming back from the control room. I heard a scream." _Your_ scream.

"What did you do to them?" she asks. I wish she hadn't. I don't know how I feel about it. I've never beaten someone like I did Drew, and in some ways it makes me feel like my father, but at the same time it doesn't feel like enough, not nearly enough.

"I deposited Drew at the infirmary a half hour ago. Peter and Al ran. Drew claimed they were just trying to scare you. At least, I think that's what he was trying to say." My voice stays steadier than I expected. The expression on her face is hard to read.

"He's in bad shape?" she asks fiercely. That's the expression: hatred, vindication.

"He'll live." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. I'm not a killer, but I won't celebrate Drew's continued existence. "In what condition, I can't say."

Her face goes fiercer for a moment, triumphant, and she grabs my arm, squeezing hard. "Good," she says. Her expression is hard and angry, but then she starts crying. I've never really understood tears. I stopped letting myself cry after my mother died, supposedly died.

I watch Tris for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next. Finally, I pull my arm free, intending to adjust the ice pack, but instead my hand is suddenly cradling her face. I didn't mean to do that. What is wrong with me? Why am I always touching her? Okay, I know why, but really, don't I have any self-control at all around her?

I keep my expression still, move my thumb casually across her cheekbone, almost carelessly but staying well away from the bruise that's already starting to form on her other cheek. She's from Abnegation after all, so she can't be any more familiar with touching than I am. If I keep it casual, maybe she'll think it's normal, and I can get away with it for now. She's certainly not dumb, though, and sooner or later she's going to notice that I never touch anyone else, only her.

"I could report this," I say.

"No," she replies quickly. "I don't want them to think I'm scared."

I nod, my thumb still moving back and forth over her cheekbone. "I figured you would say that."

"You think it would be a bad idea if I sat up?" she asks. Probably, I think, but I'm running out of ways to keep my hand on her cheek casual, and this is a good excuse to change position.

"I'll help you." I hold her shoulder firmly with one hand and her head with the other, keeping her neck steady as she pushes herself up. She winces, clearly in pain, and stifles a groan.

As I hand her the ice pack, I say, "You can let yourself be in pain. It's just me here." And I'm on your side. I hope she knows that, really understands that. She bites her lip, looking unsure how much to trust that statement, how much pain to show around one of her instructors. That, I suppose, is the core of the problem. I'm still her instructor. As much as I want to be something more, something different, of course she's going to see me that way.

"I suggest you rely on your transfer friends to protect you from now on." I'd rather she rely on me, but I know that won't work right now. I can't be in the dormitory with her, can't be around her all the time, and can't suggest she stay with me through the rest of initiation. Like it or not, and I don't, she needs to rely on her transfer friends.

"I thought I was," she says, pressing her hand to her forehead and rocking slowly back and forth. Then, she jolts forward with a sob. "But Al…" Dumb. So dumb. How could I suggest she rely on her transfer friends right after Al betrayed her, attacked her, almost killed her? What is wrong with me?

But I do get it, even if I'm slow about it. She's trying to understand what happened, why Al did what he did. She can't trust her other friends until she understands that.

"He wanted you to be the small, quiet girl from Abnegation," I say softly. "He hurt you because your strength made him feel weak. No other reason."

She nods slowly. Again, the motion clearly hurts. I wish she would talk instead of nodding, but I can see she's struggling to come up with words. She's been betrayed, and doesn't know how to move forward.

"The others won't be as jealous if you show some vulnerability. Even if it isn't real." I know she won't want to hear that, won't want to act vulnerable, but I also know it's the best way for her to stay safe.

"You think I have to _pretend_ to be vulnerable?" Her voice is incredulous, and she raises an eyebrow in disbelief. That catches me off guard. Of course she has to pretend. She's rock solid Dauntless, braver than anyone I've ever met. It didn't even occur to me that she didn't know that. But then again, I think of myself as being afraid most of the time, yet I have the fewest fears on record. I guess we don't always perceive ourselves accurately.

"Yes, I do," I say simply. I take the ice pack from her hand – I can see she's having trouble holding it – my fingers brushing against hers lightly. As I reach to hold the pack in place, I stand. Her expression changes oddly for a moment, but I continue. "You're going to want to march into breakfast tomorrow and show your attackers they had no effect on you, but you should let that bruise show, and keep your head down."

She looks nauseated. "I don't think I can do that," she says, her voice empty, and she raises her eyes to mine.

"You have to." I say it firmly. She needs to listen, to understand. She needs to stay safe.

"I don't think you _get_ it," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face flushes unexpectedly. "They touched me."

It's as if the floor drops away from beneath my feet. I'm filled with vertigo and gut-wrenching fear, and then just as suddenly, the rage is back, filling every part of my body and mind and soul. I can feel my entire body go stiff, like ice has frozen me to my core. "Touched you," I manage to say, the words barely emerging from my clenched jaws.

She's staring at me, but I can't get my emotions back under control. "Not…in the way you're thinking," she says finally, and clears her throat. "But…almost."

She looks away, and I'm glad. My muscles are locked, and I don't know how my heart can be pounding so hard when it has also completely stopped. They _touched_ her. I will kill them, _kill_ them. I will tear them slowly apart with my bare fingers. I will make sure they _never_, _ever_ come near the woman I love again.

Love? The word stops my thoughts cold. When did I get to love? I haven't even told her I like her, don't even know if she likes me, and suddenly I'm thinking love? As if I know anything about it… I've only ever loved two people, and one of them beat me while the other abandoned me. Still, I know it's true. Somehow, at some point, I crossed that threshold.

Oddly, the thought calms me, helps me focus. If Eric suspects how I feel, he will make it his mission in life to end hers. So, I can't slip up. I can't do anything to Peter or Al, or anything more to Drew. For Tris' sake, I have to leave them alone. It's wrong. It's so unjust that it sickens me, but I swallow the bile and force my mind forward. I have to keep Tris safe. That's the only thing that really matters. And I have to do it through other people. There's only a week of initiation left. She just needs to get through that week.

I've been silent too long. She is looking at me again, and I hope my face is reasonably calm. "What is it?" she asks.

"I don't want to say this," I begin. Truly, I don't. "But I feel like I have to. It is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand?"

She is clearly uncomfortable with my words. I don't blame her. I am too. Finally, she nods. She winces very slightly as she does, reminding me that her head still hurts, still pounds from what they did, and I have to add it…

"But please, when you see an opportunity…" My hand is on her cheek again, and I tilt her head up carefully so our eyes meet. I can feel the fierce anger, the desire for justice, maybe even for revenge gripping me. "_Ruin them._"

She laughs shakily. "You're a little scary, Four."

Suddenly, I hate that name, hate everything it represents. It's my Dauntless name, and Dauntless is doing this to her. Dauntless turned the initiates into monsters who attacked her three against one. Dauntless is keeping me from reporting them, from doing anything to them, from protecting her. I have never been so ashamed of my faction.

"Do me a favor," I find myself saying, "and don't call me that."

"What should I call you, then?" she asks, and I feel stupid again. I can't tell her my real name yet. Almost no one here knows it, and if she suddenly starts using it, Eric will know for certain that there's something between us. I've just taken away the only name she can call me, and I have nothing to replace it with.

"Nothing," I say, pulling my hand away from her face. I can't believe how dumb that was, but even as I think it, a certainty settles into my stomach. I need to find a way to tell her. Not yet, of course, but soon – soon, I need to find a way to tell her everything.

I look at her again and add that final thought. "Yet."

_**Please take a moment to write a review, so I know what you liked and what didn't work for you. Reviews really, really help with that... Thanks!**_


	5. Chapter 23 (Day after the Attack)

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent world, any of the characters, or the dialogue that's in the books. Those all belong to Veronica Roth. Personally, I'm glad of that, since I like how she writes._

**Chapter 23 (Next Day)**

She sleeps on my bed that night. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to convince her; she knew it would be foolish to return to the dorm. I'm glad. I don't think I could have let her out of my sight.

I leave the bathroom light on in case she needs anything, and to make it easier to check the ice pack during the night. I expect it to be difficult to fall asleep with her so close, but it's oddly relaxing. I don't even mind sleeping on the floor. It brings out the Abnegation in me. My dreams are troubled, though.

The first one is no surprise. I dream that she's being attacked again, by Eric this time. I'm running to reach her, to save her, but I'm too late. When I get there, I stare at her broken body at the bottom of the chasm. I wake abruptly, unsure if I cried out. I usually don't. I learned to keep my nightmares quiet years ago, to keep my father from hearing.

I can't fall back asleep after that. I finally have to get up to see her, just to see that she's still safe. I watch her for a while, changing her ice pack to give myself an excuse in case she wakes up. My fingers linger near her hair.

The second dream is unexpected. I'm back in Abnegation, watching Tris and her brother walk down the street. She looks like she does now, while her older brother looks the way I last saw him two years ago. I suppose that should seem odd, but sometimes that's how dreams are. I stare at her, unable to look away, and my father sees me. It's been a long time since he beat me that badly in a dream. At the end, when I can no longer move, he changes into Eric, leans over me, and whispers, "Now, it's on to Tris."

At least it's easier to fall back asleep this time. My father is an old familiar in my nightmares, after all, and despite everything, Eric has never made it into my fear landscape. I wonder vaguely if he'll be there now, threatening Tris, but ultimately I'm able to slow my breathing and sleep again.

The third dream goes a different direction. This time, Tris and I are together, somewhere safe. I don't know where – nowhere familiar, since I've never been truly safe in my life. We're alone, and her lips are on mine, our bodies pressed together, intertwined, all of my inhibitions gone… This time, I wake slowly, and lie there savoring the feeling of the dream. It takes me a while to identify the emotion. I've felt it so rarely, and never so intensely. _Joy_.

I don't go back to sleep after that. The feeling is too good to follow with anything else. Instead, I wait until I can stop grinning and then get up, my eyes hanging on Tris. I change her ice pack and then simply watch her again, for a long time.

I feel torn. I want to tell her soon, don't want to keep waiting, but I also know I should wait until after initiation. It's only another week, and then I won't be her instructor any more. And she won't be at Eric's mercy so fully, won't be sleeping in the same room as people who are willing to kill her. A voice whispers from the back of my mind that a lot can happen in a week. In an hour, she'll go into the dining hall and act weak, elicit sympathy from her friends, and Will and Uriah already watch her more than I like.

Eventually, I grab some clean clothes and head to the shower. I usually shower quickly, but today I turn the water cold and just stand in it. It helps me clear my mind. I dress and return to the room, my hair still wet. When I enter the room, Tris is standing on tiptoe, tying her hair into a bun in front of the mirror that's too high on the wall for her. For a moment, I think about how I'll need to lower the mirror, or add a second one, so she can use it whenever she's here. I push the thought away, drying my hair with the towel to hide my face. When I lower the towel, she's looking at the hem of my shirt, an undefined expression on her face. I feel a sudden surge in my stomach. Maybe she does like me, maybe.

"Hi," she says, her voice tight.

My hand is on her again, my fingertips brushing gently over the bruise on her cheek. "Not bad," I say. "How's your head?"

"Fine," she says, obviously lying. She brushes her fingers over the bump on her head and winces.

My hand drops to her injured ribs, and every muscle in her body tenses, but not with fear I think. With something else, and again I feel a surge of hope. "And your side?" I ask, my voice low.

"Only hurts when I breathe," she answers.

I smile. "Not much you can do about that," I reply easily. I haven't moved my hand.

"Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing," she says with a touch of humor. I'd kill him if he did, but I keep my voice light.

"Well, I would only go if there was cake."

She laughs and then winces, her hand dropping automatically to her side and landing right on top of mine. Electricity shoots through me. I savor it for just a moment and then slowly slide my hand from under hers, my fingertips grazing her side gently.

I don't want to leave the room, but it's time to face the day. I nod a little, vaguely, and lead the way out, aware of her right behind me. I'm always aware of her.

_**Please take a moment to write a review, so I know what you liked and what didn't work for you. Reviews really, really help with that... Thanks!**_


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